


Orlesian Letters

by Trewestriandta



Category: Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-07
Updated: 2016-03-07
Packaged: 2018-05-25 08:38:10
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 599
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6187717
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Trewestriandta/pseuds/Trewestriandta
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>I don't own any rights to anything.<br/>This was written as a gift for Kauri.</p>
    </blockquote>





	Orlesian Letters

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Kauri](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kauri/gifts).
  * Inspired by [Letters from Orlais](https://archiveofourown.org/works/5689081) by [Kauri](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kauri/pseuds/Kauri). 



> I don't own any rights to anything.  
> This was written as a gift for Kauri.

To the Masterful Commander Cullen Rutherford,

It was my utmost pleasure to steal even a brief few moments of the evening from those that would have monopolized your time. Not that I can blame them for their fascination with such a rare, mythical creature such as yourself. It is such a fleeting occasion that the Court is presented with a Lionheart such as yourself, the proud crest of your golden hair was a crown amongst the cheap jewelry those that fluttered around you. 

I would have lost my composure had I been granted more time with you, as even our simple conversation left me with an unforgettable impression of your elegant loquaciousness and I am firmly convinced that you are a master orator. But ever since our too brief time together I have been unable to wash my mind of the image of your imperfectly perfect lips. The scar that bisects the bow caught my attention and the delicate blush of your bottom lip beckoned to mine own mouth devilishly. Would the scar feel rough against skin accustomed to the hard caging of a well-wrought corset? Or would the sensation of your mouth ghosting over my skin feel instead as silken as the words that tumbled from you on our brief night? 

I can only imagine, and know that I belong entirely to your lips. 

I belong entirely to the dream that is the sensation of you pressing hot, wet kisses to the pulse point of my neck while your hands deftly spill my body forth from the wretched containment of my Orlesian silks. Without ever having tasted you I know that your mouth would consume me easily, each delicate bite down my collar bone and between the valley of my breasts would be an exquisite torture. The laving of your tongue against the edge of my navel a tease and a promise. I would have you know the taste of the very heart of me Sir. The agony of pleasure I would endure under your teeth, the harsh satisfaction of your mouth against my skin. I know with a certainty that is Divine faith that you would address the need between my legs with a thorough reverence that would destroy me. 

That image of you tears me apart and builds me back up again. Knowing in my heart how you would look, body fully clothed even as I am bared. You lovingly, carefully using the silks of my own gowns and clothes to tie my legs wide apart for you as you knelt between them. The hot puffs of your breath as you smell the beginnings of my ardor, and then the feel of your battle calloused fingers stroking through the soft hairs to expose my gentle lips to your scarred and beautiful attention. You would be mockingly gentle at first, as coy as you pretended to be in our brief time together, but I could see the ferocity you tried to hide. You would kiss and stroke my skin to a sensitive peak and then devour me with every pull of your teeth and stroke of your tongue. I would wait and come apart under your attention again and again, a slave to your command. Your lips would sear my skin, your fingers would play the music of pleasure, mark me as yours. And when you finally shed your clothing and sunk your no doubt elegant cock into me you would claim me as yours. 

This I know my dear, Lionhearted Commander. I am yours truly, bewitched by your lips and awaiting your desire. 

Madam du Neiges


End file.
